


Waste the Night

by wickedarcher_08



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Bottom Harry, Dirty Talk, Famous Louis Tomlinson, Harry is a fangirl, M/M, Non-Famous Harry, Photographer Louis, Photography, Rimming, Smut, Top Louis Tomlinson, slight exhibitionism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-30
Updated: 2019-04-30
Packaged: 2020-02-10 08:03:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,196
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18656320
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wickedarcher_08/pseuds/wickedarcher_08
Summary: Harry is excited to finally see his favourite band in concert and his favourite person, the guitarist of the band, Louis Tomlinson. Little does he know what the night has in store for him.____________I don't wanna say goodbye to another nightAnd watch you walk awayAnd I don't wanna let it burn in the city lightsAnd make the same mistakes, this time





	Waste the Night

**Author's Note:**

  * For [teletubbielouis](https://archiveofourown.org/users/teletubbielouis/gifts).



> So I saw the manip by the lovely Kami (@teletubbielouis), and I felt like I HAD to write it. She is super talented and you should check out all of her social media. Since this story was inspired by her manip, I am gifting it to her. This story is mostly smut. I will never be sorry for it lol. I hope you enjoy! xx
> 
> This was also inspired by a prompt that I saw on twitter from @runningwotah (I'm sorry I don't know your real name). I hope I did your prompt justice.

Harry can feel the excitement bubble in his stomach as he looks at his outfit one last time in the mirror. He smooths down the pink sparkly blouse, the bow it has on the collar sparkling even more with his movement. He runs his fingers through his short curls and glances down to make sure his cream coloured, wide legged trousers have no stains on them. He knows keeping them spotless all night will be a miracle, but he is still hopeful. It maybe a bit much for a concert however Harry doesn’t care. He  _ wants  _ to be noticed. He wants to be noticed by one member of the band in particular. 

“Harry, if you don’t hurry your arse up, I am not going to the concert.” Harry’s head snaps up at the sound of Niall’s voice. He looks up to find his dark haired friend wearing a simple t-shirt and jeans. He dropped by over and hour ago, and made himself at home while Harry got dressed. Harry had to beg Niall for months to go with him, promising several baked goods, dinner, and to go to a fucking footie match with him in upcoming weeks. Niall wasn’t the biggest fan of No Control. Niall has no taste. 

“You can’t. You promised!” Harry protests, fiddling with his bow in the mirror one last time before turning to Niall with a pleading look. Niall looks unimpressed, crossing his arms over his chest, his eyes looking somehow bluer in contrast to the dark scruff on his face. 

“Then hurry the fuck up. I know you have have your hopes up that this Liam…” 

“Louis,” Harry corrects glaring at his friend who seems unperturbed by Harry’s angry stare. Liam and Louis look completely different. Liam has dark hair and brown eyes and is totally not Harry’s type. Louis on the other hand is the most beautiful human being Harry has ever laid eyes on. He has told Niall the names of each band member at least one thousand two hundred and seven times in the past week alone. He has even shown him pictures to accompany their names, and Niall still doesn’t know them. Harry needs better friends. 

“...Louis guy is going to notice you, but don’t be upset if it doesn’t happen. There are gonna be thousands of people there, H,” Niall says, looking at Harry with almost sad eyes. Harry isn’t stupid. He understands that the chances of Louis noticing him are slim. He doesn't even know if the guitarist is gay. There are plenty of rumors, but he has never came out or anything. Harry is just holding out hope. He knows a lot about him, like the fact that he is from Doncaster, has six siblings, and even that he hates avocados. He knows there is a lot more to Louis than the media’s portrayal of him, but that doesn't stop his heart from fluttering anytime a new picture of him is released. It doesn’t prevent Harry’s body from freezing every single time hears Louis’ raspy voice in interviews or during his solos in songs. Harry has never loved someone he has never met so much. 

“I know, Ni. I’m not delusional, but this night is important to me. I still want to look nice, even if it’s just for myself,” Harry responds, rolling his eyes. He goes over to his bedside table and puts a ring on almost every one of his long fingers, leaving the ring finger on his left hand bare. He doesn’t want Louis to think he is taken if he just so happens to actually notice him. He then pats Niall on the shoulder, signalling to him that he is done and ready to leave. 

It is an unusually sunny afternoon in London, not a rain cloud in sight, thank the gods, because Harry’s ensemble is very expensive. They are still fairly early as they make their way to the arena, Harry having called a car knowing that they will probably drink when they get there. He also didn’t want to deal with parking, so calling a car was the best option. He and Niall talk along the way, Harry quizzing him on each band member and the songs he knew were on the setlist. Niall does terribly on the quiz, but takes it all in good spirit, probably planning payback of epic proportions when it’s his turn to drag Harry to the football match. 

“I can’t believe I am going to be in the same room as him,” Harry says, his tone taking on a dreamy quality as it often does when he talks about Louis. He can’t believe he is going to see him in person and breathe the same air as him. He is going to be mere feet away from Louis’ blue eyes and high cheekbones with just the lightest dusting of freckles. Harry hopes he has a bit of scruff on his face, always having thought about what it would be like to kiss him with the beard rubbing against his sensitive skin. He wants to trace every one of his tattoos, even the dumb ones. 

It’s not just his looks that Harry loves. He also loves his personality. He is quick witted and funny with the best, most sarcastic sense of humor. He is so smart and creative, writing most of No Control’s song with his bandmate, Liam. He is creative with photography as well, his Instagram full of pictures that he has taken during his travels with his band. Louis also loves his family so much, it makes Harry’s heart ache with how good of a big brother he is to his siblings. Harry just knows he would make a great dad someday. He is just so kind to all of his fans and has donated quite a bit of money to charities over the years. 

“I can. You haven't shut up about it since the tickets went on sale,” Niall replies snapping Harry out of his fantasy involving adorable kids with Louis. Niall rolls his eyes at Harry with a fond smile as they both make their way out of the car. There is already a line outside of the venue, but Niall has connections with the management of the facility. They just show security their VIP badges and are allowed through immediately, then escorted to the roped off section of the floor for other guest with the same privileges. Harry could kiss Niall, but that would be a whole new level of gross. He knows Niall is attractive from an objective standpoint, but he is far too much like a brother to him. 

“I’m just excited, Ni. I just… I love this band so fucking much. They have helped me through some really hard times, and I am just so glad I finally get to seem them live,” Harry says, eyes wide and looking up at the stage. He places his hands on the metal barrier, knowing that their specific location is going to be on the side Louis usually stands on. Harry’s heart flutters, more excitement bubbling in the pit of his stomach. He just needs to make it through the opening act, then Louis will be on stage. 

“I know, H,” Niall responds clapping Harry on the shoulder. They talk until the first act comes on, both knowing some of the songs. They are good. Better live than they are in the studio, which is usually the opposite, but Harry can’t help jumping up and down, trying to get some of his anxious energy out. He just wants to fucking see Louis. His skin feels warm from the alcohol Niall has supplied all night. He has managed not to get a single drop on his outfit, so he gives himself a mental pat on the back. He takes another beer from Niall’s hand, looking up at the stage watching various people set up for No Control. Fuck. He is so close to seeing them. 

He just finishes his beer when the lights dim again, the whole arena going quiet. Harry’s skin prickles with excitement, every cell in his body stopping with anticipation. He doesn’t know if he is even breathing, the excitement in his stomach traveling up into his chest then throat, threatening to strangle him. He can already feel his eyes swimming with unshed tears, the emotions of the moment finally catching up with him. The beginning chords of  _ Alive  _ surround him, and Harry can’t stop the scream that erupts from his chest. His heart is beating madly, as he continues to listen to it, keeping a sharp eye on the stage. Just waiting. This is it. He could cry. He bites his lips to stop himself, already knowing he won’t be able to stop himself from crying when songs like Long Way Down and Fireproof are played. 

A few seconds later, none other than Louis Tomlinson takes the stage, white guitar already strapped around his slim shoulders. Yes. Harry is crying. He quickly wipes his eyes, smiling up at the man that doesn't even know he exists. Louis is wearing a pair of black skinny jeans that hug his curvy legs and arse. Harry licks his lips, wanting to bite that arse more than he currently wants air to breathe. Louis has paired his skinny jeans with a black, sheer, sleeveless t-shirt, the outline of his chest tattoos peaking through the material. Now is not the time for a boner, but Harry hasn’t be able to convince his hardening cock of that.  Hopefully no one notices. 

Harry barely registers when Liam begins singing the first verse, too busy thirsting after Louis who is a mere three feet from him. He can almost touch him. He can count his fucking freckles, the green and blue lighting behind him, streaming down through his long eyelashes, creating abstract patterns on his high cheekbones. His hair is styled messily, perfectly imperfect in every way. Harry wonders what it would feel like. Would it be soft? He thinks so. His blue eyes almost glow in the light, his guitar looking almost too big for him, the black ‘x’ eyed smiley face drawn on at the base of the neck. 

Louis steps even closer to him, his black VANs clad feet looking small and delicate as he sings into the mic during the chorus of the song, his raspy voice being heard clearly over the sound of the rest of the band harmonizing. Harry watches, entranced, as Louis’ small nimble fingers quickly work over the guitar strings during his solo. Not for the first time, Harry wonders what those fingers would feel like inside of him, opening him up. They are so talented, so it would only make sense that he would be skilled in other areas. His cock is now fully hard at the thought. Holy shit. This is going to be a long show. 

 

____________

 

“Okay this next song is a slow one. I want to see all of your lights up in the air, and I wanna hear your lovely voices singing along,” Louis says into the mic, his voices traveling throughout the space. The lights dim, followed by thousands of lights flickering on like fireflies on a warm summer night. He will never get used to this. He will never ever get used to seeing so many people there to watch him and his best friends perform, hearing so many voices sing his own songs back to him. It is humbling. He always gets emotional just thinking about it. He adjusts his in-ears, planning to pull them out soon so he can hear everyone singing along. He has the song memorized by heart, the muscle memory already kicking in as he starts to play the beginning chords to Long Way Down, moving his guitar to the cadence of the melody.  

Halfway through the song, Louis removes his in-ears, closing his eyes and listening to the thousands of voices surrounding them singing the song he wrote, their voices harmonizing perfectly. It is the most beautiful thing he has ever heard. He looks around, seeing thousands of lights moving to beat of the song, back and forth, like a sea of stars. He briefly wonders how long it would take to count them. His eyes scan the crowd, finally landing on a man in the front row. He is beautiful in the low light from his phone, smiling and singing along with misty green eyes. 

His mouth is wide, a lovely shade of dusty pink, stretched over straight white teeth. Louis almost faints when the next thing he notices are two deep dimples framing his wide smile. Louis loves dimples. He loves to lick them. He loves to see how deep his tongue will go before it is met with more skin. It looks like his tongue could delve for days, this man’s, they are so deep. Louis smiles, noting his pretty pink sparkly blouse, the loosened bow revealing a peak of dark tattoos on his chest. The sleeves of the blouse are rolled up, more tattoos littering his arm. Louis wants to trace them. 

His dark hair is cut short, and but Louis can see the wave of a natural curl on top. Louis loves curly hair and briefly wonders if the lad has ever let it grow out. Louis wants to run his fingers through it. He is so enthralled by the boy in the front row, he forgets to sing the begining of his solo, but smoothly acting like he purposefully let the crowd sing it. He wants to know his name. He wants to know everything about him. Like why he chose to get a tattoo of what looks like a naked mermaid with saggy boobs on his arm. He wants to know what his hobbies are and what he does for a living. Everything. He wants to photograph those long limbs, his dick hardening at the very idea. Thankfully, his guitar is in front of him to cover any awkward boners, but the friction it provides feels far too good. He needs to stop or he is going to end up coming while rutting against his guitar and watching his new Curly haired boy. 

He tears his eyes away from his new favourite thing to find Liam looking at him, his dark brows drawn in confusion. Louis winks at him, then gestures towards Curly. He sees the moment it dawns on Liam when his eyes go wide in understanding, then he gives a small shake of his head. Louis rolls his eyes in response. Liam doesn’t like it when Louis takes male fans back to the hotel with him. To be fair, Louis doesn’t do it very often because it’s not really his thing, but it is still the shitty-ness of the situation. If Louis wanted to bring female fans back, no one would bat an eye. Liam is petrified Louis’ secret will get out if he chooses the wrong person, and Louis gets that. He does, but he also fucking hates hiding who he is just because he is in a popular band. It’s all bullshit and incredibly frustrating, always being linked to random celebrity women through management. Recently they have been mentioning forcing him into a contracted long-term relationship girl because the rumors of his homosexuality aren’t going away. It makes him sick just thinking about it. 

Louis spends the rest of the show watching Curly and his dark haired friend that doesn’t look very much like he wants to be there. Curly, though, has had a great time, screaming and dancing along to the music. Well Louis supposes it’s dancing, but in reality it just looks like long flailing limbs moving to their own beat. Louis loves it though. He catches himself smiling at him more times then he cares to admit, Liam just rolling his eyes every time. Curly, for his part, also hasn’t taken his gaze of Louis the entire time. Everytime Louis would smile at him, Curly obviously thought it was directed to someone else, but he would blush all the same. A pretty shade that matched the colour of his lips. Louis wonders where else he may blush. 

“Can you invite that guy in the pink sparkly shirt and his friend backstage after the show?” Louis asks one of the security guards gesturing towards Curly and his friend. They are preparing for the encore, so they are just out of the view of the crowd, but the crowd is screaming all the same. Like they normally do even though they know there will be an encore. It is a fun game they play. The security guard nods once, then disappears. Louis smiles at Liam, who gives him a disapproving shake of his head. Louis flips him off then runs back onto the stage with his guitar in hand, the crowd erupting as soon as they see him. 

 

____________

 

“Mr. Tomlinson has requested you and your friend to meet him and his other bandmates backstage,” a large man shouts into Harry’s ear, and Harry’s eyes go wide at the mention of Louis Tomlinson’s name. He looks at the man’s badge, seeing the words VIP Security written on it, so he thinks he is legit. Holy shit. Louis has requested the presence of him and Niall. Harry thought Louis had been looking at him all night, but figured it was just a figment of his over-worked and under-fucked imagination, but maybe it wasn’t. Louis fucking noticed him. Fuck. He hits Niall’s shoulder repeatedly, probably with far too much force but he is fucking excited. When Niall finally turns to him, confusion marring his features, Harry just gestures at the security guard.  

“Louis wants us to come back stage,” Harry yells, slapping Niall harder because he doesn't seem to be getting the severity of the situation. Harry’s heart is beating like mad, his limbs feeling almost numb with disbelief. The security guard said it three times, but Harry still thinks he may have misheard. Louis fucking Tomlinson wants him and Niall to come back stage. Holy fucking shit. Harry has to have died and gone to heaven. He wasn’t sure he even believed such a place existed, but he is there now. He is about to meet Louis. Fuck. Does he look alright? He wonders if the security guard will give him a moment to check his hair. It doesn’t seem so because the large man has already started to move the gate just enough for the two boys to squeeze by. 

“You’re kidding,” Niall finally says, once they have gone past the barrier and are following the security guard through a door that leads to the backstage area. His eyes are wide in disbelief, and Harry fucking seconds that notion. The guard just shakes his head, keeping his expression neutral as they walk down a long corridor, twisting and turning until they reach a door. Harry feels like he is going to puke, the alcohol churning in his gut alongside the nerves. Everything feels hazy, as if he is in a dream that he hasn’t awoken from yet. He tries to keep the tremble from his limbs, so he grips onto Niall elbow, needing something to ground him. Holy fucking shit.

Harry swallows again when the security guard knocks on the door firmly. He can barely hear rustling behind the door, just over the sound of the blood rushing through his ears. A few seconds later, Harry watches in slow motion as the door knob turns, opening to reveal Louis fucking Tomlinson himself. Harry blinks, not being able to quite believe the man standing in front of him or the turn of events. His heart feels like it is trying to beat out of his chest, heading straight for the guitarist. “Hey guys, glad you could make it,” Louis greets them with a smile, nodding at the security guard before motioning them inside. 

Harry takes a moment to look around the large room. There is a desk with a mirror in front of it, lights illuminating the surfaces all around. To the side is a rack, holding several different outfits. Finally his eyes land on the sofa, where Liam Payne is sat, smiling at them. Harry blinks a few times, feeling the absurd need to pinch himself. If he digs in fingernails into his hand as a form of waking himself up, then no one needs to know. He feels like he is in a dream as he walks the rest of the way into the room, trying to return Liam’s smile, but it may come across as more of a grimace. Harry tries to shake himself. He is normally calm and collected, some even calling him charismatic. 

“Thanks for coming backstage. I saw you in the VIP section, singing and dancing, so I figured you were big fans. We will sometimes choose random fans to come backstage and meet us afterwards, you know, as a show of gratitude for your support,” Louis explains, coming to stand directly in front of Harry smiling. Yeah. Harry is everything but calm and collected. Is there a word for his heart feeling like it is in his arse? Because that would be the word to describe him at this present moment. He just stares at Louis, not really knowing how to process everything. Louis just talked to him. He is currently standing so close to Harry, he could reach out and trace his fucking freckles like the destinations on a map to the heavens. 

“Thanks for inviting us,” Niall interjects, probably noticing Harry’s struggle to form coherent sentences. Thank the gods for Niall because Harry probably looks like a fish out of water, his mouth open and gaping. Louis turns his attention to Niall, smiling and clasping his hands in front of his body. “Sorry about my friend. He is a bit star struck.” Louis purses his thin lips at that, obviously attempting to hold back a smile. It is adorable, and Harry wants to kiss him. 

“Does your friend have a name?” Louis asks, his Donny accent thick, making Harry’s knees almost buckle as he swoons. A name? Right. Harry totally has a name, it has just slipped his mind. Names do that, you know. They are tricky little bastards that like to run away at the most inopportune times, like when a very sexy rock star is asking for it. 

“His name is Harry. Harry Styles and my name is Niall Horan,” Niall introduces, sticking out his hand for Louis to shake. Louis then holds his out to Harry. Harry just stares at it for moment tracing the tattoos on his arms with his eyes before he blinks a few times, coming back into reality, even if he isn’t sure what that is anymore. He stretches out his much larger hand, taking Louis’. He briefly panics, hoping that it isn’t gross and sweaty from nerves. If it is, Louis doesn’t react, just holds onto him for moment. Louis hand is small and cold, rough with calluses built up from years of playing guitar. Yes, Harry would very much love to know what they feel like inside of him. He stops that train of thought before he gets hard… again. 

“It’s nice to meet you Harry Styles,” Louis says, smiling so wide his blue eyes crinkle at the corners, and Harry almost fucking chokes. Louis just said his name. Holy fucking shit. “Why don’t you boys come in and have a seat. You all know Liam, I presume.” Louis then steps to the side, gesturing at the large red couch. Liam moves over, patting the seat beside him. Niall walks over, sitting down next to the other man, smiling as if this is an everyday occurrence for him. Louis sits next to Niall, leaving the spot on the end, beside Louis, free for Harry. Harry takes a few deep breaths, walking over and easing his long limbs down in to the spot, afraid to move once he is seated. 

“So what’s your favourite song of ours?” Liam asks, breaking the tension that has built in the room. Niall looks to Harry since Niall isn’t as big of a fan as Harry. favourite song? Yeah, right. Harry may be able to answer that one. He thinks about all of their songs, most of the holding some kind of special meaning to him in someway. 

“It’s hard to just pick one, but I think Long Way Down. It’s just so deep,” Harry tells them, his voice slower than normal. 

“Is it as deep as your voice?” Louis asks, amusement lacing his tone. Harry’s head snaps up to look at him. Louis has a small smile on his lips, bordering on a smirk. Did Louis just flirt with him? Holy fucking shit. If it were any other guy in the world, Harry would take it as flirting, but this is Louis Tomlinson. Louis wouldn’t flirt with someone as average as Harry. Harry scrunches his nose and coughs, not really knowing how to respond to that at all. “So what do you lads do for work?” 

“Oh I teach music at a secondary school, and Harry is a graphic designer for a advertising firm,” Niall tells them, gesturing towards Harry. “He is pretty fucking amazing with photoshop, if I do say so myself.” 

“Oh you teach music!” Liam exclaims, looking at Niall with bright happy eyes. Niall turns his attention towards the other boy, going into an immediate discussion about the instruments Niall can play. Louis, on the other hand, looks at Harry. Harry can feel the blush rising on his cheeks from the attention.  

“Photoshop, eh? You ever photoshop us together?” Louis asks, bobbing his eyebrows up and down suggestively, smile still firmly intact. Harry almost fucking chokes. Again. He is going to be lucky to survive this night without actually dying because Louis keeps catching him off guard. He can feel his entire body heating with embarrassment, his mind automatically going to the secret file on his computer where he has photoshopped Louis wearing feminine clothing or with makeup on. He has never photoshopped them together because that would be weird, but he has done some pretty good manips. 

“No,” Harry manages to get out, running his hands along his trouser legs as he coughs and scrunches his nose up in his discomfort. It’s not technically a lie. He hasn’t photoshopped them together, just images of Louis dressed a little differently than he is normally, that’s all. Louis is looking at him with a small smile, studying him in a way that makes Harry want to squirm. 

“That’s a pity. I think we would look hot together,” Louis responds almost nonchalantly, and what the fuck? Is he flirting with Harry? Maybe Harry drank a little too much and his overactive imagination is taking the reigns again, but he is definitely not imagining the feeling of Louis’ warm hand on his leg. When Harry’s mouth gapes open like a fish out of water, Louis continues, “Maybe we can find out later.” He ends the sentence with a wink, and Harry’s cock is definitely hard again. 

They spend the next hour getting to know each other, talking about anything and everything, while Louis continues to flirt. Harry has gotten much more comfortable being sat beside him, allowing his legs to open up enough for their knees to continuously touch. He has even been bold enough to nudge Louis’ elbow a few times when Louis made a joke that took a moment for Harry to understand. Scandalous. He knows. Louis has a way about him that makes everyone feel so relaxed, and he is very tactile with Harry, always putting his hand on Harry’s leg, or even draping his arm over the back of the sofa where it remains, his fingers grazing the fabric of Harry’s shirt every so often. Harry has gotten used to these types of touches too, only choking the first twenty-seven or so times, thank you very much. 

“Look, I don’t do this very often, but I like you, Harry. Would you wanna, maybe continue this conversation back in my hotel room? Liam is probably going to fuck off to an after party with the rest of the band. We can do that instead if you want. I don’t care; I just don’t want the night with you to end.” The honesty in Louis’ tone catches Harry of guard. He asks the question quietly, barely loud enough for even Harry to hear and he is almost sitting in his lap that this point. When did that happen? Holy fucking shit. Did Louis just invite him to his hotel room? Harry blinks a few times, trying to snap out of it. He hasn’t had a drop of alcohol in a few hours, so he can’t blame that. He wasn’t even that drunk to begin with. Louis’ blue eyes are still honest as he patiently waits for Harry’s reply. 

“Yeah. I’d love to,” Harry answers on one breath, the sentence coming out far faster than anything Harry has ever said in his entire life. He bites his lip, hoping he doesn’t seem too eager. Louis is beaming though, his face lighting up the fucking planet with his smile. Harry allows it to wash over him for a brief moment, finally believing that this is real. He is going back to Louis Tomlinson's hotel room to do… well he doesn’t really know what Louis plans to do. Harry would be perfectly content if he just wanted to sit around and talk some more. Harry could listen to his voice for hours and never tire of it although his poor cock would probably fall off from so much blood flow. He would spend the entire time turned on. Fuck, Louis could read the damn Bible, and it would probably turn Harry on. Not the old testament, obviously. 

“We are gonna go meet the rest of the guys at an after party. Do you lot want to join us?” Liam asks, his attention landing on Louis and Harry. Harry doesn't really know how to reply. Does Louis want Liam to know that he is taking someone back to his hotel room? Is that against their band rules or whatever? He doesn't have to think about it much longer, because Louis has begun answering the question. 

“Nah. We are gonna head back to my room. Chat for a while longer, maybe have some tea,” Louis responds with a smile, standing up, Harry following suit. Liam looks a bit worried while Niall’s face has morphed into a wide grin, pointed directly at Harry. Harry can feel his face heating up, getting worse when Niall bobs his eyebrows and winks. Harry hates Niall. He has decided. He will not being going that footie match with Niall. Nope. Niall can fuck off. He knows it’s a lie. His happy arse will be at that football match, but he can still deny it in his head. 

“You’re such an old man,” Liam jokes, standing up as well, clapping Louis on the shoulder, but there is a tension there. Harry glances at Niall who can feel it as well, as he slowly gets off the sofa, his bad knee giving him issues. 

“Fuck off,” Louis laughs, flicking his bandmate off. 

“Be safe,” Liam tells him, his voice lower this time. Harry doesn’t miss the exchange, nor the look in Louis’ eyes as he nods. “Alright mates, we will see you later. Don’t worry Harry, I’ll make sure Niall gets home safe. It was nice meeting you. I may see you around.” Liam waves as he pushes Niall out the door, Niall winking at Harry. Harry sighs, putting one ringed hand over his face, the coolness of the metal feeling good on his overheated skin. Suddenly he feels Louis’ hand on his right elbow, pulling it down. When Harry removes his hand to look at the other man, Louis keeps his hold. 

“Ready to go?” Louis asks, and Harry knows he is giving Harry a way out. He is pretty much saying ‘you can say no, and we can follow Liam and Niall’, but Harry doesn't want to say no. So he smiles and nods, noticing for the first time the height difference between he and Louis. Louis only comes up to his nose, and it is kind of adorable. He has a small curvy body that Harry is itching to touch. He kind of hopes the reason why Louis invited him to his hotel was because he, too, wants to touch Harry. Harry is trying not to get his hopes up, though. Everything that has happened tonight is already unbelievable. Louis couldn’t be interested in him in that way. 

“Alright, lemme grab my guitar,” Louis says, going over to the corner of the room to pick up the black hardshell case. Harry suddenly wants to touch the guitar inside. He has seen Louis play it in multiple live performances and videos. He knows it is Louis’ favourite guitar from No Control’s documentary that was released a few years ago. Louis talked about how it was his first electric guitar that his mum gifted to him when he was only sixteen. Harry’s fingers itch to run along the strings, to touch the ‘x’ eyed smiley face that Louis drew there at that very same age, before he knew what life had in store for him. 

Louis comes back to place his hand under Harry’s elbow again, gently pushing to guide Harry out of the room. He doesn’t release his hold as they make their way through various hallways and doors. Harry is lost, but Louis seems to know where they are going. “Sorry, I had to take you the back way. I know it can be a bit creepy, but we needed to get to the car at the entrance where there will be no fans waiting. Liam probably distracted the paps enough when he and Niall left,” Louis explains, as if reading Harry’s thoughts. It makes sense. It probably wouldn’t look great if Louis was papped leaving with a man after a show. It definitely would do nothing to thwart the gay rumors. 

“Makes sense,” Harry responds, nodding his head, short curls bouncing. Louis shoots him a small smile, then Harry tenses when he feels Louis’ smaller hand fall into his own. He relaxes quickly, glancing down to see their tattoos aligning, Louis’ hand looking so much smaller in his own. He prays to whatever god or goddess that just so happens to be listening that his hands aren’t gross and clammy. He looks up, swallowing, and tries to act nonchalant about the fact that he is now holding hands with LOUIS FUCKING TOMLINSON. Harry is calm. He swears it. He tries to keep his breathing steady even though, internally, he is freaking the fuck out. Okay, so maybe the rumors are true. Maybe Louis is gay and maybe, just fucking maybe, he wants Harry as much as Harry wants him. 

“Should be just through this door,” Louis tells him, suddenly looking as nervous as Harry feels. He gives Harry one last smile then opens the door, the warm, humid air hitting them. Louis hands his guitar case to the driver of the car, who quickly moves to put in in the boot. Louis pulls Harry towards the open back door, getting in first. Harry doesn’t hesitate, or give Louis a chance to move over, he just climbs over the smaller man, position his long legs so that he is straddling Louis for a brief moment, their chests aligning, making the butterfly tattoo on Harry’s stomach flutter to life. It is gone before it really started, Harry sitting himself down in the seat beside Louis, but Louis is frozen to the spot. 

“Alright?” Harry asks, with a wide smile, finally feeling like he is getting his wits about him. Harry knows how to flirt. Now that he knows Louis may be just as interested as him, then he feels confident enough to turn on his full charm. Louis seems to snap out it, grabbing the door handle before the driver has time, shutting it firmly. He turns towards Harry their gazes locking, it feels as though they are suspended in time, even though the driver has now started the car, making them jolt a bit. Louis licks his lips, and Harry holds his breath, the atmosphere in the backseat of the car suddenly feeling overwhelmingly tense. Harry can almost feel the proverbial rubber band being pulled back, just waiting to snap. 

Louis is the first to move, leaning closer to Harry, placing a hand on Harry’s knee. It doesn’t break the moment, if anything the invisible rubber band is just being pulled tighter, on the brink of snapping. Harry bites his bottom lip, waiting to see what Louis is going to do. Louis’ dark pink lips are now mere inches away from Harry’s, but Harry isn’t going to close his eyes yet. He wants to see this. He wants to see the exact moment Louis decides if he is going to kiss him or not. It feels like they have been in the back of that car, staring at each other for hours when, in reality, it has probably only been minutes. Harry hasn’t breathed in that amount of time. He would probably die if it wasn’t for Louis hand on his knee, giving him life. 

Harry sees the exact moment Louis makes his decision in the blue of his eyes. They were wide and uncertain, then suddenly, they are intent, twinkling in the dim light surrounding them. When Louis bridges the gap between their lips, Harry finally allows his own eyes to slide shut, sighing into the soft gentle kiss. Louis taste exactly how Harry imaged, sweet with just a hint of tobacco. It is then that Harry makes the executive decision to deepen the kiss, placing a palm on Louis’ scruffy cheek, pulling him closer. Harry licks the seam of Louis’ mouth, releasing a pleased moan when Louis’ grants him entrance. Harry’s cock is beginning to harden in his trousers, rubbing uncomfortably against the long seam of his zipper. 

“Is this okay?” Louis whispers against Harry’s lips, and Harry is so taken aback by the question, he rears back his head to look at Louis. The uncertainty is back in Louis’ gaze, and Harry’s heart breaks just a tiny bit. He knows Louis was being honest when he said he doesn’t do this very often. He is probably afraid Harry would tell his secret, but Harry isn’t going to do that. It’s not his secret to tell, plus he respects Louis. He would never out anyone without their permission. When Louis looks like he is starting to panic, Harry remembers that he was asked a question. Yeah. Speaking. Harry can do that. 

“More than okay,” Harry responds, after clearing his throat exactly three and a half times. Louis still seems to be panicking, realising what he has done. Harry needs to handle this quickly, or it may be disastrous and ruin the evening for Louis. He would never want Louis’ evening to be bad, even if it doesn't involve Harry. “Louis, I know we just met, but I feel like I’ve known you forever. Your secret is safe with me. I will sign whatever NDA or gag order you want me to. I would never out you because I know how that feels. I know you don’t know me, nor should you have to trust me, but I promise I won’t say anything.” Harry tries to keep his voice and eyes honest as he looks at the smaller man, who is now gripping Harry’s knee like a lifeline. 

“Thank you,” Louis finally says, but doesn’t give Harry a chance to reply. Harry feels both of Louis’ hands on his waist, digging into the material of his shirt as he pulls Harry’s whole body to him, kissing him. There is no pretense of chastity this time, just tongue, teeth and spit, as their tongues continue to battle for dominance. Harry decides to get the upper hand, moving to straddle Louis’ slim hips. He moans when he feels Louis’ erection pressing against his own. The space of the car is cramped, but Harry doesn’t care. He folds his body around Louis’ smaller frame, tucking his chin to continue their kiss. He feels the fabric of his shirt being pulled against his skin, the material coming loose from the trousers it was tucked into. A moment later, Louis’ hands are on Harry’s small love handles, squeezing them gently, making Hary feel as though he is burning alive. 

“Sir.” When Harry hears someone clear their throat, his head snaps up, pain slicing through his skull when it makes contact with the roof of the car. He winces, reaching up to grab the spot he just smacked. Louis beats him to it, his small fingers rubbing gently along Harry’s scalp. Harry looks down at him finding Louis with his brows drawn in concern, eyes trained on Harry’s dark curls. 

“You okay, Haz?” Louis asks, the nickname making Harry forget about his throbbing head completely, reminding him of another throbbing head. Harry just nods dumbly, resting his hands on Louis’ warm chest, enjoying the feeling of Louis’ chest rising and falling. “Are we at the hotel?” It takes Harry a moment to realise that Louis isn’t speaking to him, instead the driver that interrupted them. 

“Yes, Sir. We are at the back entrance, as you requested,” the driver says, looking through the rearview mirror at them. 

“Thank you, Greg. You’ve been amazing,” Louis responds, shaking Greg’s hand, probably slipping some money into this palm. Harry decides then that he should probably get out of Louis’ lap, as much as it pains him to do so. He and Louis adjust themselves, just incase someone sees them. It probably wouldn’t be in Louis’ best interest to be seen sporting a hard on with another man, as much as Harry hates it. Harry tries to think of images that will get his cock to soften a bit. Picturing Niall in the shower doesn’t even do it because then he remembers how Louis’ lips felt. How he tasted. 

Harry snaps out of his fantasy that is very quickly becoming a reality when Louis opens the door, peering around to see if there was anyone around. Louis grabs Harry’s hand, pulling him out into the humid night air. Greg comes up, giving Louis his guitar case then bids them farewell, both men thanking him profusely. They seem to be in an alley behind a building that Harry doesn't recognize from this angle. He is guessing that it is a hotel though, but he didn’t pay attention during their short drive, his senses being completely overrun by Louis. 

Louis shoots him a reassuring smile, pulling him in the direction of a nondescript door. Harry barely holds back his shock when Louis opens the door revealing a posh white foyer with a giant crystal chandelier hanging in the middle of the large open space. The hotel is far more upscale than Harry has ever seen, much less been to, but he does his best not to let his jaw drop in awe. Louis is watching him with an amused smile, probably remembering the first time he had ever seen a hotel like this. Harry knows Louis didn’t grow up rich, so he probably wasn’t used to this either. 

“This way,” Louis says, pulling Harry toward the lifts. Louis presses the button, but they don’t have to wait in awkward silence for very long, the doors opening fairly quickly. Once inside, Louis inserts his keycard, not pressing one of the buttons at all. Harry lets out a surprised noise when Louis is suddenly all over him, sealing their lips together in a desperate kiss. Harry would have forgotten about the guitar case in Louis’ hand if it wasn’t for the sound of it  bumping against the wall along with Harry’s own shoulders. Harry recovers quickly, kissing Louis back, cupping his jaw while doing so. 

“Lou, please,” Harry whimpers, and he isn’t even sure what he is asking for or where the fuck that nickname came from. Harry realises though, that at some point throughout the night, Louis stopped being Louis Fucking Tomlinson and become just Louis. He doesn’t have time to think about this fact because Louis’ free hand has began groping Harry’s hardening cock through the material of his trousers. Harry moans into Louis’ mouth, grabbing his hips and pulling him closer, ignoring the sound of the guitar hitting wall. 

“What do you want, love?” The question makes Harry shiver despite the heat of his skin. Louis’ words wash over him, his accent making Harry’s cock somehow harder. Harry never thought this would happen, so he is having a very difficult time answering the question. It still kind of feels like a dream, but he knows it's not when Louis’ hand, as if to its own accord, squeezes the bulge in his trousers, almost as if Louis wants to remind him that this is real. 

“I want you inside me,” Harry whispers, looking down into Louis’ eyes. Louis doesn’t respond, just kisses Harry light only the lips and begins pulling him by his hand. Harry looks up to find that they must have somehow ended up on Louis’ desired floor, because the lift is open behind them, revealing a small foyer. Just past it, Harry can see a large telly and a sofa. Harry doesn’t really look around as Louis leads him out of the lift and into the living area. He knows there is a small kitchen on the other side, but he is too focused on the bedroom and its location. 

Harry can’t hold back his shock when they enter the bedroom to find a king sized bed that looks so comfy, Harry is almost sure he would sink into it. It is messy and unmade, as if someone had taken a midday nap in it. He can’t help his grin, imagining Louis with messy hair and a sleepy smile. Harry’s eyes automatically go the large window in front of bed. It has the most beautiful view of London that Harry has ever seen. He almost wishes it was daylight so he could see it in all of its glory. “Lovely isn’t it?” Louis asks, coming to stand beside Harry. Harry glances over, trying to see something like this through Louis’ eyes. Louis has probably seen all of the major cities of the world from the top of a hotel. “Wanna go out on the balcony?” 

“Of course,” Harry responds, a little too quickly to be considered at all cool. If Louis thinks he is lame, he doesn't show it. He just chuckles, and goes to the door that Harry hadn’t even realised was there. A moment later, they are standing outside. Harry feels almost dizzy from the height they are at, his head spinning just bit. He smiles when he feels Louis’ hand on the small of his back, steadying him. Harry grabs a hold of the railing, the metal cool beneath his palms as he takes a deep breath. Holy fuck. They must be twenty eight stories up or something equally as scary. 

“You never get used to this, you know? The view of the cities. Sometimes when I think about my life before the fame, it almost feels like I am watching a movie. Like it wasn’t me,” Louis says, coming up to stand behind Harry, placing his hands on top of Harry’s own. Harry looks back at him with a smile. Louis seems to be good at reading people or maybe he is just good a reading Harry. Either way, Harry likes him. And not in a way that a fan likes their idol, but in the way that a boy likes another boy.  

“I couldn’t imagine,” Harry admits, almost to himself as he looks back at the skyline. Louis feels warm and sure behind him, and Harry shivers when he feels a light kiss on the back of his neck. Just like that, the lust from the lift is back with a vengeance, his cock stirring once more. Louis bites down on his neck as he grinds his hips against Harry’s arse. Harry moans in response, pressing back just a bit to really feel the outline of Louis’ cock through his skinny jeans. 

“Have you ever been opened up on a balcony with a view of London before?” Louis asks directly in Harry’s ear, making the hair on the back of his neck stand to attention. Harry bites his lip to keep from moaning and shakes his head, not trusting his own voice at the moment. “Maybe that’s exactly what I will do.” Louis then begins to circle his hips, grinding harder while biting Harry’s neck and the exposed portion of his shoulder. 

“Lou, please. Please. Fuck. Open me up,” Harry begs, his cock now fully hard and throbbing. He would say anything if that means Louis’ skilled fingers will be inside of him sooner rather than later. He realises with perfect clarity that regardless of what he and Louis do, he won’t regret it. He would never waste a night like tonight. The very idea of just pissing away this moment is absurd. Even if Louis weren’t famous or whatever, Harry knows he would have said ‘yes’. He likes Louis as person. This has nothing to do with his fame. 

“Alright, baby. Don’t worry,” Louis responds, canines sinking in to Harry’s jawline. Harry hisses from the pain, but it turns into a moan as pleasure courses through him. He barely registers that Louis’ fingers have unbuttoned his trousers. Next thing Harry knows, the cool night air is on his hot cock. Harry steps out of the item, kicking them towards the door. The fact that the very expensive trousers are now on a dirty balcony floor barely crosses his mind, too focused on Louis’s hand. Louis doesn’t go straight for his cock. No. Instead, he decides that Harry’s chest is way more interesting. Harry grips the railing as Louis fingers trace his chest from behind, almost as if he wants to memorize the contours without actually seeing it. 

“I’m sorry. I have four nipples,” Harry apologises automatically when he feels Louis’ fingers on the lower right one. It has turned people off before, but he didn’t want to get them surgically removed. They were a part of him, and if his partner had a problem with them, then they could fuck right off. Harry has never been self conscious of his body. He spent most of his teenage years walking around in nothing but his pants. He hates clothes. He always has. 

“Don’t apologise, love. Your body is beautiful. Four nipples just means more to play with,” Louis responds, voice raspy and in Harry’s ear. He emphasises his words by tweeking the bottoms ones just a bit, pulling a low moan out of Harry. When Louis begins lifting the silky shirt, Harry understands, immediately lifting his arms so that Louis can pull the item off. The cool air hits his over sensitive skin in the next moment, the moonlight licking at his skin. He feels strangely exposed even if he knows nobody can see them. They are like twenty eight stories up, but he still likes the thrill of it. He can pretend that they are about to get caught. 

“I love your tattoos,” Louis remarks, tracing the lettering of ‘Silver Spoon’ etched into Harry’s skin. Harry shivers, Louis’ accent making the second and third Ts in the word completely disappear. He never thought he would be turned on by the way someone said ‘tattoos’ but here he is, his cock practically leaking with need. He almost moans when he hears the tell tale sign of the lube. Harry shakes his head. Louis complimented him. Fuck. It’s not the first time, but he really needs to find his brain. 

“I love yours, too. I’ve always wondered what it would be like to trace them with my tongue,” Harry responds, proud that he was able to form words other than ‘please’ and ‘fuck’. He can feel Louis chuckle against his chest. His own smile turns into a small ‘o’ when he feels Louis small wet fingers trace his hole. Harry automatically widens his stance, bending at the hips to put both hands on the rail. 

“We will get to that, but right now, I wanna trace something with  _ my  _ tongue.” Harry is confused for a solid few seconds, but then Louis drops to his knees behind him. Harry’s protest dies on his lips when Louis licks a wide, hot strip along Harry’s hole. Holy fucking shit. Harry tries to concentrate on the view in front of him and not what is going on behind him or he would come. Too bad he thinks what is going on behind him is way more lovely and interesting than the London skyline. Who needs that shit when he has Louis licking into him, making his entire body burn with need. 

“Oh God. Fuck. Lou. That feels so good. Ah. Shit,” Harry curses, arching his back to try to get Louis’ finger actually inside of him. Louis gets the hint, slowly pressing the tip of his index finger past the tight ring of muscle. Harry almost sighs in relief, but Louis’ tongue is relentless. He can feel him licking around it. Before Harry can even consider it, Louis has two fingers inside of him, scissoring them and licking between them, almost touching Harry’s spot with his tongue. Harry’s cock is hanging heavy and neglected between his legs, for the moon and buildings around them to see. 

“You taste so good. So fucking good,” Louis says, and Harry can feel the words against his hole as Louis’ beard scrapes the sensitive skin. Harry clutches onto the rails so hard, he fears for the bones in his hands. He is surprised it isn’t creaking under his grip as he scrambles for some kind of purchase. He feels like his entire world is being rocked, the need to come almost all consuming, but he has no friction on his cock. No way to come, and he wants to scream. 

“Lou, please,” Harry begs, his moans getting louder by the second. He is now fully panting, his skin covered in a light sheen of sweat, the air no longer cooling him down. How is cool air even supposed to compete with Louis? It can’t. It’s not possible. As long as Louis is eating him out, nothing will ever cool him down. 

“You can be as loud as you want, baby. No one will be able to hear you except maybe the moon,” Louis rasps, as if he can read Harry’s mind. Harry doesn’t even try to bite his lip when the next loud moan is released from his chest. He doesn’t try to stop himself anymore, crying out when Louis adds a third finger. It hurts a bit, but the burn from the stretch feels so fucking good, Harry could cry. Actual tears are being brought to his eyes as he flies higher and higher, his orgasm approaching. 

“I’m close,” Harry warns, and then whimpers when Louis immediately removes his tongue. His skin still stings where Louis’ beard was rubbing against it, probably red with the ministrations. He clenches at the rails so tightly his knuckles have to be the colour of snow. He feels like he is about to jump out of his skin, almost like his body can’t handle this level of arousal. 

“Why don’t we go back inside, love? Get a bit more comfortable,” Louis suggests, standing up. Harry doesn't hesitate to take Louis’ hand, small and sure in his own. Even in the low light he can see Louis’ hard cock straining against his jeans, telling Harry that he is just as turned on by everything. Louis doesn’t say anything as he pulls Harry inside. Once through the door, Louis begins kissing him. Harry decides that he needs Louis’ clothes off, and he needs them off immediately. 

He starts with Louis’ t-shirt, easily slipping the item over his head. He takes a moment to appreciate Louis’ tan skin. He has seen pictures of Louis shirtless before, but it is nothing like the real thing. He has a fine smattering of chest hair, the scripted words of his tattoo flowing beautifully over his prominent collarbones. Harry’s mouth waters with the need to bite it, to mark it. He leans down, doing just that. He can feel Louis’ moan through his lips as he does so, his hands making their way down Louis’ soft tummy. It is barely there, and Harry has the strange urge to kiss it. He pushes it aside, instead finding the button on Louis’ skinny jeans. The fact that Harry managed to get the material down Louis’ curvy arse and thighs without detaching his mouth from it’s new favourite spot is a fucking miracle. 

He squeaks, actually fucking squeaks, when Louis pushes him on the bed face down, not expecting the action at all. He moans though when Louis’ warm body is on top of his, Louis’ still wet fingers find his hole and slowly press inside. Harry arches his back then ruts down against the soft bed sheets, finally getting some friction on his cock. Louis grabs one of the many pillows, tapping Harry’s hip with his free hand. Harry understand, and lifts up, allowing Louis to slide the pillow under for a better angle. “Harry, I know this is a bit unorthodox, but can I ask you a question?” Louis’s inquiry is sudden, almost as though he just thought of it. 

“Yeah,” Harry responds, whimpering when Louis slowly removes his fingers again, Louis moves so that he is in Harry’s line of vision. Whatever the question is, it must be important. Louis looks nervous. Harry wonders if he is going to ask to bareback. Harry will have to politely decline because he isn’t unsafe, even if it is with a pop star. 

“Please know that if you say ‘no’ I will completely understand. We can just continue what we are doing now, and I will be so fucking happy,” Louis starts, and Harry is so endeared it is ridiculous really. This is the first time he has seen Louis nervous all night, and it is so fucking adorable Harry wants to squeal ‘awe’ and squeeze Louis until his eyes pop out. He doesn't. He likes Louis’ eyes far too much to do that to them, so he waits patiently for Louis to continue. Louis averts his eyes for a moment, biting his lip again, before he meets Harry’s gaze again. “Can I photograph you?” 

Harry is so shocked by the question, his mouth pops open, and he doesn't even bother trying to shut it. Every fly in London could fly in, and he wouldn’t care because he currently can’t believe his ears. Louis must take his shock for horror because he begins rambling, his words coming out almost too fast for Harry’s brain to process. “It’s just that you’re-- you’re the most beautiful person I have ever seen. I’m not just saying that as a line. I mean it. Your body is long and gorgeous. It has given me so much inspiration, for both photography and writing. I swear I don’t do this often. I don’t have some creepy stash of photos of the men I pull in my pants drawer. You’re the first person I have ever even asked to photograph. I just.. I want to remember this moment forever.” 

The honesty in Louis’ words startles Harry. He believes him. Now that he thinks about it, there aren't many pictures of actual people on Louis’ Instagram. If they are, it’s candid shots of his family and bandmates, no one actually posing or anything. Louis’ last sentence is what gets Harry though, because Harry also wants to remember this moment. Always.  Before he has time to reconsider, Harry is nodding. “Just… umm… Just not my face though.” 

“Really? You don’t have to. Please, don’t feel like you have to. Like I said, I would be perfectly content with just continuing what we were doing, or just talking to you. You’re so genuine and funny,” Louis says. Harry knows he doesn't have to. He trust Louis when he says that they can just continue what they were doing or just talk. Harry hopes that both happens in the very near future.  

“I’m sure,” Harry responds, and Louis’ answering smile is enough to make Harry not regret his answer for one second. It lights up his whole face and the night sky. It is radiant, the crinkles by his eyes so deep, Harry could drown in his tears. He is beautiful. Truly fucking beautiful, and Harry wishes he would have brought his own camera, because Louis is meant for pictures. He is meant to be stared at in awe and worshipped in a gallery. Louis is art. 

“Okay. Stay right there. I’ll be right back,” Louis instructs, getting off the bed completely. Harry smirks when he sees Louis’ still stiff cock swinging between his legs with the action. Harry’s own hard on hasn’t gone away at all. In fact, the idea of Louis photographing him has him rutting against the pillow and bed for more friction. He isn’t even paying attention, so he hisses when he feels something resting against his loose hole. 

 

__________

 

Louis almost dies when he slowly lowers the neck of his electric guitar on top of Harry, resting it against his stretched hole, the width covering it completely. Harry moans out, biting his obscene lips as he looks back, realising what Louis had done. Louis quickly grabs his camera, deciding to have a little bit of fun. “Fuck, Harry. You look so fucking beautiful with my guitar on you, covering up something I have done, where my fingers were just a moment ago.” He snaps his first picture when Harry moans, rutting against the sheet and pillow. 

“Nobody would ever know if they saw. They wouldn’t know how open you were for me. How ready you were for my dick. You want that, baby? You want me to replace my guitar with my dick?” Louis asks, his own erection twitching with his words. Harry writhes on the sheet, his arms coming up above his head, creating the most beautiful angles with his thick body. His pale skin looks obscene in the light, almost glowing. His long legs are framed around the guitar, and Louis wants to cry from the beauty.

“Yes. Fuck. I want you inside me. I wanna know what it feels like,” Harry responds, spreading his legs wider and digging his toes into the mattress. He presses his hips into the sheet harder, using his strong legs to push against the guitar, making it rub against his hole. Louis snaps another picture, needing to distract himself or he will come. He wants to touch himself, but he knows as soon as he does, it’s over. 

“You will, baby. Don’t worry. You’re doing so good for me. You’re the perfect model really. So lovely. So fucking sexy. Do you know how obscene you look like this? You will. I’ll show you the photos,” Louis praises, snapping another picture, when Harry fists the sheets, pushing himself against the neck of the guitar once more. Louis eyes are drawn to it, the way Harry’s strong arse cheeks mold around it, the ‘x’ eyed smiling face seeming to wink at him. 

“Lou. Please. I’m close. Please. Need you now. Fuck me. God just fuck me. Need it,” Harry begs, and Louis snaps out of it. He sits his camera down. Harry stops moving when Louis grabs his guitar, sitting it to the side. He gets on the bed, as Harry turns his head to look at him, his face no longer buried in the sheet. Harry looks wrecked already, his curly hair sticking up in various areas all over his head. His green eyes are glassy, his lips so red, they resemble the colour of his cheeks. He is fucking lovely. 

“It’s okay, love. Just let me grab a condom,” Louis soothes, leaning over the bed where he left his suitcase on the floor, not even bothering to unpack it. He is lucky he even had one, but he thinks Liam may have left it in his room a couple of shows back. He could kiss Liam, honestly. He sits back on his haunches, using his teeth to tear the foil packet. He winces as he carefully rolls it on his length, squeezing himself at the base to stop his quickly approaching orgasm. He takes a few deep breaths, lightly smacking Harry’s arse when he starts squirming and moaning again. Harry stills, and Louis rewards him by rubbing over the red mark he left on the round globe. 

“Please,” Harry whimpers, and Louis simply can’t stop himself any longer. He adds a bit more lube onto his dick and lines himself up with Harry’s stretched hole. He can’t prevent the hiss from leaving his lips when he begins sinking in, slowly. Harry is tight and so hot, it feels like Louis’ dick is about to be melted off his body. Louis will just have to kiss his dick goodbye because he isn’t fucking stopping. Not even the Gods above could stop Louis from immersing himself into Harry’s wet heat right now. He would literally have to be struck dead before he would stop because it feels so good, Louis briefly wonders if had been struck dead. Maybe he is in heaven. 

“Lou. Lou. Please. Move. Fuck,” Harry moans, snapping Louis back to reality. He hadn’t even realised that his hips had already met Harry’s round ass, and Harry is now squirming beneath him. Louis heeds the command, beginning to rock his hips ever so slowly, allowing Harry to get used to the sensation. Harry cries out, fisting the pillow above his head. Louis thinks he may have hurt him for a split second, but then he realises Harry is using his powerful legs to push back against Louis’ shallow thrusts, forcing him to go deeper. 

“Fuck. Harry. You feel so good around me. You’re so tight. So hot.” It may not be the most eloquent thing Louis has ever said in bed, but Harry still seems to like it. Louis grabs Harry’s hips, beginning to fuck him deeper and harder, hitting his spot with every thrust forcing Harry to cry out. All that can be heard in the room is the sounds of Harry’s screams, Louis’ pants, the slapping sound Louis’ balls make when they hit Harry’s with each hard thrust of his hips. 

“You like the way I feel inside you? Splitting you open? You like it when I fuck you like this?” Louis asks, folding his body over Harry’s to whisper the words in his ear. He doesn’t give Harry a moment to respond, just begins biting and sucking on his neck, the sweat on his chest mingling with that on Harry’s back, making everything hot. He can feel Harry’s deep moans in his mouth, can see Harry fisting the pillow for purchase as Louis continues his punishing pace. 

“Lou. Please. Lou. So close. Fuck please.” Louis isn’t sure what Harry is even asking for, and he doesn’t think Harry even knows. His eyes are blown, the green fully replaced by black now. Louis takes his hands in his own, threading their fingers together as he fucks him deeper, forcing high pitched whines from Harry’s sinful red lips. Louis can’t stop himself. He has to kiss him, so he does. The angle is awkward, but he doesn’t care He needs to taste him again. He grips Harry’s hands harder as he kisses him, swallowing every moan, hiss, and cry. 

“Gonna come for me, baby? Gonna come all over my bed? Make a mess?” Louis asks, between kisses, moaning the words into Harry’s open mouth. Whatever Harry was going to reply with is devoured by Louis’ mouth, Louis’ tongue delving in between his lips, moaning at the taste. Louis just feels like he can’t get enough of him, as if he is addicted to Harry. Right before an orgasm is the strangest time to have an epiphany, but Louis never said he he had good timing. He is struck by the realisation that he never wants this to end. He doesn’t want to kick Harry out of his room after this with a NDA and a ‘have a nice life’. He wants to see Harry again. He wants to feel him. He wants to fucking taste him, again. 

Harry screams into Louis’ open mouth, every muscle in his body tightening, and Louis knows Harry is coming. He can tell by the twitch in his legs and the clench of his hole, feeling as though it is wringing Louis’ dick of it’s come. Louis bites Harry’s lips, fisting his hands so tightly, Harry’s rings dig into his skin as he comes into the condom. His whole body tingles with his release, feeling as though his orgasm is never ending. He continues kissing Harry lazily long after their hips have stopped and their grips have loosened. 

“Stay?” Louis asks, between kisses. He holds his breath. Maybe Harry doesn't want to be with a rockstar for more than a night. Maybe this was just an itch he wanted to scratch then go back to his normal life with no cameras flashing. Louis wouldn’t blame him, but he can’t stop the disappointment from sinking in. He knows they just met, but fuck, he likes him. He hasn’t liked someone this much in such a long time. Hasn’t allowed himself because he is a closeted celebrity, but for whatever reason, Harry gives him hope. Doubt creeps into his body like a dark fog, spreading to every pore on his skin and into every crevice between heartbeats. 

“I’d love to,” Harry responds with a dimpled smile, and Louis releases the breath he had been holding for what felt like ages. He may not have Harry forever, but he at least has him for the night. He would never want to waste it. He slowly pulls out of Harry, wincing at the overstimulation. Maybe they can fuck again in the morning. Louis has to leave soon. He has one more show in London then it is off to their next location, but he tries not to think about all of that. He has a beautiful man in his bed for the first time in a long time. A man who is sweet and funny and who seems to understand, at least somewhat, Louis’ predicament. He would much rather think about that. 

Louis goes into the bathroom to grab a flannel, wetting it to return to find Harry has already rolled over, staring up at him with a sleepy smile. It seems most of Harry’s come landed on the pillow, which makes this a whole lot easier. He just grabs the pillow and tosses it to the side of the room, then begins wiping at Harry’s skin, making sure to get the sticky substance off of him. They can shower in the morning. He then shuts off the light, and climbs into bed. Harry turns over, so Louis drapes his body over Harry’s back, sighing in contentment. 

“Hey, Lou?” Harry asks a moment later, his deep voice even slower than normal, sounding almost far away. Louis snaps back into consciousness, having almost dozed off with the warm boy currently in his arms. 

“Yeah, babe?” Louis replies, squeezing Harry against him. Harry is so warm, Lous wants to melt. 

“Can we wake up to see the sunrise? We can go back to bed, afterwards. I just wanna watch it rise on the balcony.” Harry’s voice is so drowsy, Louis wonders if he had fallen asleep while asking. Louis smiles at the question, glancing out the window where the sun would be rising in just a few short hours, bringing a new day and wiping away the night. He looks back at Harry, his breathing beginning to even out. He has seen the sunrise in so many locations, he almost forgot how amazing it would be for someone else. 

“Of course, love. I wouldn’t miss that or any other sunrise with you,” Louis whispers, praying that Harry has fallen asleep. He rolls over, sitting an alarm on his phone to that he can complete Harry’s request. When his chest meets Harry’s back again, Harry’s breathing has evened out fully, his eyes closed and eyelids twitching. He is so fucking lovely it hurts Louis to look at him, but Louis doesn’t look away. He kisses Harry’s nose one last time then joins him in sleep, keeping Harry tightly wrapped in his arms. Hoping to never let him go. 

**Author's Note:**

> As always, kudos and comments are always welcome. Follow me on my social media accounts if you wanna stay updated on any new stories or get sneak peeks.  
> Twitter- @Wicked_Archer  
> Tumblr- wicked-archer


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